


Venus was her Name

by Dawnwind



Series: Sequel to Venus on the Half Shell [3]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:27:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: On Halloween night, Starsky wakes to blood curdling screams.





	Venus was her Name

Starsky jerked awake. Rain pounded against the windows so hard the glass rattled in the frames as thunder boomed. The wind howled, evoking images of wraiths emerging from their graves. Worst of all were the screams that reverberated around the walls of the little house. Certainly loud enough to wake the dead.

Even the sleep deprived.

“Hutch…” Starsky groaned, poking the man beside him.

“Your turn. I was up two hours ago,” Hutch muttered into his pillow.

As rare California lightning briefly lit the room, Starsky could see drool rolling off Hutch’s lip to his chin. He stifled a curse as the screams turned into ear piercing shrieks. “Really does sound like Halloween night, doesn’t it?” he said to no one in particular since Hutch had gone back to snoring.

Pushing off the bed, Starsky shivered as his bare feet hit the cold floor. Didn’t the presence of ghosts make a room colder? “She’s safe, and warm—just probably hungry and has a wet diaper,” he whispered to his daughter’s mother’s spirit.

He always thought that Venus’ mother watched over her. The desperate mother had given birth on her own and left the baby, wrapped in a blanket and in a relatively safe place—a car wash behind a Shell station—before driving off, probably bleeding, in fear and pain. She’s tried, but undoubtedly been ostracized from not only family but friends for carrying a black man’s child. She’d been killed in a car wreck not an hour later, around the time Starsky had heard the baby crying and found her.

Maybe she wouldn’t ever have won mother of the year, but she’d provided, in her own way. He’d loved his Venus since the moment he saw that stubborn, proud, angry little face.

The same face he looked down on now, in her purple and pink nursery room. Venus’ cries stopped abruptly when she saw him, as if to demand what took him so long? When he didn’t produce a bottle of milk instantly, like a magician’s trick, she took up her caterwauling with renewed vigor.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty,” Starsky commented, swiftly changing her diaper. One bit of luck, it was only pee, and not poop. He couldn’t handle number two at—what time was it? Picking her up, he carried the baby into the kitchen and peered at the clock on the microwave. Three forty three in the morning.

The dry diaper had somewhat appeased the princess, but she was swearing in baby language as if complaining about the slow service in this restaurant.

Popping a bottle into the warmer, Starsky carried her over to the window to watch the trees lashing wildly in the wind. “From ghoulies and ghosties and long legged beasties, and things that go bump in the night,” Starsky chanted. Venus stared at him raptly, caught up in the sound of his voice as he swung her gently back and forth. “Good Lord deliver us.”


End file.
